


Heart Ink

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-19
Updated: 2005-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: (Tom Waits - A Little Drop of Poison) Peter Pettigrew feels so petty. He writes in an inkstained book. Drops of sweet and sour pour from his fingers. A Rat Always Knows. Scrivenshaft Participant.





	Heart Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Peter Pettigrew spat toothpaste angrily into his bathroom sink. They had done it _again_ , they had left him out _again_. For once in his miserable teenhood, could he at least be included in the actual _pranking_? Ever since that one incident in fourth year when he accidently, of course, burned the permanent hair dye the four of them were making to dump onto Snape's greasy head…that potion took the four boys months to gather all of the supplies, dry out the vervain, and slowly add specific ingredients when the time was right, just like their precious spell book told them to. James, Sirius, and Remus blew up at Peter and they would not let him hear the end of it.

"You were supposed to be careful, you idiot!"

"We told you a hundred thousand times: DO NOT TOUCH! Don't even breathe near it!"

"Peter," Remus would say warily, "just don't go near it, okay?"

"God, James, it took months to get everything! I almost got caught twice by Filch breaking into the storage cabinets with the map just lying there!"

The echoes of their screams had surrounded the small boy, constantly playing over and over again in his head. Like a catchy jingle one might hear on a telyfission? No, no, that wasn't right, of course it wasn't right…he was never right.

"DAMN IT!" Peter yelled over and over again collapsing on his four post bed, "DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" And the seventeen year old slept.

He awoke softly and slowly to darkness. Glancing around, he dully noted his so-called "best friends" were still not back. He sat up in bed and rolled over to open a drawer in his right night table. Withdrawing a muggle pen and a small leather bound book, he began to poor his heart into words. It was as if someone reached into his chest, grabbed his heart and squeezed it like a lemon, an orange…Peter was misunderstood sourly, sweetly. The black juice dropped on the creased white page:

_Well, a rat always knows when he's in with weasels_  
Here you lose a little every day   
Well, I remember when a million was a million   
They all have ways to make you pay 

 

_11/2/75_

 

_Nearly Six Years Later…_

 

He was running and running and collapsing and getting back up again. Running as if his life depended on it, running as if it were the apocalypse. _But_ , he mused, as his pace quickened again, _to some extent the world was ending. I mean, the rest of the Marauders would be laughing and cracking jokes if I told them five years earlier that they would fear ME._

"I know what you did, Peter! How could you do that to Lily and James, Peter? After all they did for you? Why, Peter, you mangy rat? WHY?" Sirius shouted as he ran, "Why, God damn it, why? ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!"

Peter spun around to face his old friend, his comrade. He closed his eyes and whispered harshly the poem he had written six years prior, almost to the day. _Ironic, isn't it?_ He thought sometime after, _very ironic indeed._

_"Well, a rat always knows when he's in with weasels Here you lose a little every day Well, I remember when a million was a million They all have ways to make you pay_

"Not this time." Not this time and never again. He had made up his mind.

The alley was filled with a loud explosion and a bright light…Peter Pettigrew was gone.

Sirius Black sank down to his knees and hung his head up toward the sky, ignoring the screaming and chaos and sirens and death behind him. Confusion was melting into a loud rumble and a flash of lightening as he felt heavens' tears run down the sides of his shaking face.

 

_A rat always knows…_


End file.
